


strange lands, distant shores

by robotsdontcry



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24527983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdontcry/pseuds/robotsdontcry
Summary: Whenever Tifa’s deep in thought, she bites her lower lip. This is one of the things Aerith notices while sneaking subtle glances over at her as they cruise down the near-empty highway in their stolen pickup truck. Apparently she’s not being subtle enough, because Tifa catches her during one particularly long look.(Suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away after all.)
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 12
Kudos: 209





	strange lands, distant shores

Whenever Tifa’s deep in thought, she bites her lower lip. This is one of the things Aerith notices while sneaking subtle glances over at her as they cruise down the near-empty highway in their stolen pickup truck. Apparently she’s not being subtle enough, because Tifa catches her during one particularly long look.

“What?” Tifa asks with a laugh.

It sounds a bit nervous to Aerith, but she doesn’t say that. Instead she smiles pleasantly. Having been caught in the act, she decides subtlety is for chumps. “It’s nothing.”

Tifa’s clearly confused and, knowing Aerith, probably suspicious too. Still, she chooses to drop it. “If you say so.”

While they drive in a companionable silence, Aerith leans out the open window, enjoying the rush of wind on her face. Tifa has one arm draped over the side of the truck and the other on the steering wheel, her long hair rippling in the breeze. Aerith turns to observe her companion again, notices the chewed lip and faraway gaze.

“You’re doing it again,” Aerith observes.

Tifa nearly jumps in her seat. “Doing what?” 

She’s always so on edge, Aerith muses. Just like a certain blond she’s gotten to know. It’s not a problem for Aerith, though, because she likes to think she has a knack for encouraging people to come out of their shells. Elmyra always said she had an uncanny gift with people, not unlike her sensitivity to the needs of her flowers.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard,” Aerith says. “Let me guess. Thoughts keep going round and round in your head, and it’s starting to drive you crazy?”

“Actually, yes.” Tifa sounds surprised, and almost pleased. “How’d you know?”

“You’re easier to read than you think,” Aerith replies, and bites back a smile when Tifa blushes and turns away to hide it. So predictable.

“I...didn’t know that,” Tifa murmurs.

“Or maybe I’m just good at it,” Aerith can’t help suggesting. “So, what’s on your mind? Maybe I can help.”

Tifa chews her lip for a moment too long. 

“Oh, nothing really,” she says. “It’s just...I can’t believe we’re actually leaving Midgar. It feels like leaving home.”

Aerith watches the city lights fade into the distance in the rearview mirror. She’d be lying if she said she won’t miss the slums, the steel sky and the flowers blooming between pieces of rubble and cracks in the concrete. Most of all, she’ll miss the people: the orphans and the poor and the homeless, people whose hopes and fears she’s taken on as her own. 

But there’s another part of her, a hopeful one, that’s eager to venture beyond the limits of the only life she’s ever known. The Planet’s crying out to her, beckoning.

“I’m gonna miss it too,” she admits. “But just you wait. Traveling the world will be so much fun. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean.”

She talks about distant shores and sun-drenched beaches until the line of Tifa’s shoulders isn’t so tight and she’s smiling again, her eyes crinkling warmly at the edges.

…

When they get to Junon, Aerith suggests having a girls day out. Tifa has seemed more stressed out than usual since their brief stay in Kalm, and everyone voted for Cloud to climb the transmission tower, so they have some time to themselves for once. She grabs Tifa’s arm and drags her away before anyone can say anything.

Tifa relaxes a bit once they’re away from the group and resting in the spa with face masks on. Or at least Aerith thinks so, because she seems genuinely interested in their conversation. It’s a welcome change, to see the ever-present lines of worry leave her expression, something softer settling in their place.

“So what was it like being a florist?” 

“I loved it,” Aerith says. “Delivering flowers always made people happy, and seeing the smiles on their faces made me happy too.” 

Sometimes she’d spend hours in the garden just talking to the flowers, straining to pick out each individual voice among the chatter. Elmyra always teased that she was actually just talking to herself, but there’d be a twinkle in her eye as she said it. Even though she couldn’t have fully understood it back then, Aerith knew Elmyra believed her.

Tifa laughs. “That sounds perfect for you.”

“What about you? I’m sure you made a lot of people happy at the bar.” Aerith throws in a wink for good measure, and takes delight in Tifa’s near-instant blush.

“Come on, Aerith.”

“I’m serious! I mean, look at you.”

Tifa’s eyes dart to the side, like they do whenever she’s being modest. “Oh, stop it!”

“You miss it, don’t you,” Aerith says, her voice growing serious. 

That much is obvious, or maybe Aerith is just getting to know her better—she hopes it’s the latter. Tifa goes quiet and she gets that distant look in her eyes again.

“Yeah, of course. The bar became a second home to me.”

Aerith nearly asks what her first home had been, then remembers. Nibelheim. She has a feeling that now’s not a good time to bring it up, though, so she shifts the conversation back to herself. Talking is like second nature to her, and Tifa seems more than happy to listen, her eyes going half-lidded and sleepy as steam curls around them.

“I miss home, too,” Aerith says. “I’ve been thinking, and I realized something we have in common. We’ve both had two homes, right?” 

_And now we don’t have any._ The thought hangs in the air, unspoken. Aerith tries to ignore it, but fortunately Tifa doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, right,” Tifa says, turning to face Aerith. “I almost forgot you grew up in the Shinra headquarters. Wasn’t it awful?”

“No, not really.” 

Aerith’s silent for a moment. She thinks of lofty windows and floors so polished she could see her own reflection in them, of sterile labs filled with glass tubes and containment tanks. Of Tseng and Reno and Rude, how they’d always watch over her from a distance and how she’d sneak them bits and pieces of food while they were on the job. Of her mother, her strong embrace and the warmth of her smile. 

“My mother was there, after all,” she says, “and the Turks.”

She’d always run off and get into all sorts of trouble, but somehow they managed to put up with her for seven years. They were family. Even as Aerith speaks, she feels Tifa’s eyes on her, long and searching, though for what she’s not sure. She rests her chin on her knees, feeling like a child again.

Mostly, she remembers stolen moments of warmth and life and humanity in that cold, dark place. It was many things, and yet home all the same. 

…

The first sight of the ocean takes her breath away.

As soon as they get off the ship in Costa del Sol, she manages to convince the group to spend an afternoon at the beach. Cloud’s hesitant at first, but Barret insists they need a break and Tifa is surprisingly on board with the idea. They buy swimsuits in town, which Aerith finds ridiculously expensive but doesn’t complain, and head for the sand.

It’s a hot day and the water feels delightfully cold on her bare skin. Aerith squeals in excitement as she splashes her way in, wading forward until the water reaches her shoulders. “Come in!” she calls, turning back toward the beach. 

Apparently, no one has any intention to go near the water anytime soon. Red’s stretched out contentedly in the sun, Barret’s in the middle of a game of beach volleyball, and Cloud has parked himself under an umbrella, wearing three layers of sunscreen and refusing to budge.

Aerith spots Tifa sunbathing on a towel by the shoreline, and grins wickedly. When the next big wave comes, she uses some of her magic to send the cold water flying toward Tifa, who jumps up with a shriek.

“Aerith!”

“Gotcha,” Aerith says with a grin.

“Oh, you are _so_ dead,” Tifa declares, and lunges for her. 

There’s a burning intensity in her eyes that she usually only reserves for combat, and it makes Aerith feel impossibly giddy and lightheaded. They tumble into the surf in a tangle of arms and legs, screaming and laughing when a wave breaks over their heads, breathing the salty air into their lungs.

They lose track of time. The sun starts to set, turning the sky rose-pink and giving the sand a golden glow, and the beach gradually empties out. Cloud calls out something about going back to the inn to change, but Aerith barely hears him above the crash of the waves and the rush of adrenaline. She hasn’t had this much fun in a while and she feels drunk on it.

“We should probably join the others,” Tifa says, as the last vestiges of sunlight sink below the horizon. “They might be worried.”

She looks gorgeous like this, soaked to the bone and laughing with her head tossed back, brown eyes turned amber in the fading light. Aerith lets her gaze linger for a little too long, taking in Tifa’s defined abs, the scar running across her abdomen, her toned arms and strong shoulders, and settling on her face. 

Tifa catches her gaze, and Aerith can’t look away. Her throat feels dry.

“Right,” she manages. Suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away after all.

…

They’re camping out in the desert, huddled around the remains of a dying campfire long after everyone else is asleep, when Tifa says quietly, “Are you close to him?”

She doesn’t need to elaborate for Aerith to know who she’s talking about. It was only a matter of time before they had this conversation, Aerith knows, but she’s unprepared for it anyway. She shifts closer, wrapping her blanket around herself tighter to fend off the chilly night air.

“Why do you ask?”

Tifa bites her lip, stares at the fire. “Just wondering.”

Aerith’s not convinced. It’s almost endearing sometimes, how terrible Tifa is at lying, but right now she isn’t sure how to feel. Something like dread curls in the pit of her stomach, and her throat tightens. 

She says honestly, “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I know him, but other times he feels like a total stranger.”

This doesn’t seem to reassure Tifa at all, judging by the deepened furrow of her eyebrows. “The truth is,” she admits, “I’ve known him since we were kids, and I feel the same way.”

“What was he like as a kid?” Aerith asks, unable to restrain her curiosity.

“Actually, we weren’t that close when we were young.” Tifa’s expression turns thoughtful, almost wistful. “He was always so quiet. He was never good with people, but he’d try his best. You could tell just by looking at him that he was sweet, and caring, and…”

Her voice trails off. The image of young Cloud makes Aerith smile, but it’s bittersweet more than anything, and they both know it.

“He just seems…different now.” 

Tifa hugs her knees to her chest, and she looks so much smaller than Aerith’s ever seen her, no longer a fearless brawler but a girl afraid of losing something precious to her. Her voice is impossibly tired when she says, “He’s changed so much.”

Aerith watches the glowing embers from the campfire burn bright, then slowly die, fading into the thick black cover of night.

“I know this sounds weird,” Tifa says, “but when you look at him, do you ever feel like...he’s not really there?”

Aerith nods. She doesn’t _see_ Cloud when she looks at him, not in the way she’s able to see everyone else, and it scares her a little, too. More than anything she wishes she could reach into the water and draw out the thing that he’s hiding underneath the deceptively calm surface, watch him be transformed and healed: his shoulders straightening, the storm leaving his eyes.

But something tells her the time isn’t right, so Aerith keeps waiting, listening for some kind of sign from the Planet.

The desert’s quiet at night. Aerith looks up at the vast expanse above, where stars scatter across the sky like dust. She’d never been able to stargaze in Midgar, where the steel sky was a looming, but comforting, presence. Gazing at the sky now is somehow ungrounding, as if the sand itself is shifting and giving way beneath her. 

And yet, the voices in the Planet have never been clearer. Their once-faint cries have strengthened into a soft and steady chorus, calling out to her. _This is who you are. This is who you must become._

There’s a soft sniffle beside her. Aerith turns to see Tifa rub at her eyes, her hands clenched into fists.

“He’s the only thing I have left from Nibelheim. What am I supposed to do?”

Aerith listens, heart aching. 

“What am I supposed to do,” Tifa chokes out, “when all I have left of home is a person, and it feels like he’s leaving too?”

Aerith says nothing, just moves closer, putting her arms around Tifa and staying there until her tears eventually dry and her body stops convulsing with sobs. When she realizes that Tifa’s only ever known how to be strong all her life, that there was never any room to be tender and vulnerable, Aerith holds her even more tightly.

…

It’s Aerith who leans in first.

She blames it on the alcohol. She’d made the mistake of challenging Tifa to a drinking competition, and Barret was right when he said the bartender can hold her alcohol the best out of all of them. For what it’s worth, Tifa’s looking a little tipsy too, so Aerith supposes it’s not a total loss.

The bar in Cosmo Canyon is bright and warm, a sharp contrast against its cool nights, and Tifa’s face is flushed in the low lighting. Her eyes are glowing with amusement and obvious affection and something else, something Aerith’s never seen in them before, which she hopes against hope might mean what she thinks it means.

She’s felt more than enough fear and grief and pain these past few weeks. There are times when the voices of the Planet are overwhelming, overpowering, and she feels that her body is much too small to contain all of them, all the emotions anyone could ever feel. It’s in these times that she finds herself fighting for a shred of her own self—what she wants, who she loves.

So maybe Aerith’s feeling a little bold tonight, and maybe she wants to make something happen. 

She presses closer, desperate for heat and physical contact, closing her hand around one of Tifa’s suspenders to steady herself.

When Tifa jerks back, Aerith lets go immediately. Her eyes go wide; for a moment, Aerith can almost see her own reflection in them. There’s shock and fear and something trapped inside, fighting to escape. Then she’s on her feet.

“I—I have to go,” she stammers, then flees before Aerith can say another word.

…

“I’m sorry,” Tifa says.

Aerith smiles a little. “Don’t be.”

“I’m the one who should be saying sorry,” she says in a rush, before Tifa can respond. “I thought—I mean, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should have asked first.”

“No, I mean it. I shouldn’t have run.” 

They’re sitting on a bench in the Gold Saucer, at a comfortable distance from the rides and the packed stalls selling food and drinks and entertainment. The clamor sounds muted, almost serene, from here, as if the two of them are listening from somewhere under the water’s surface. Aerith watches spheres of colored light spin around and around until she’s dizzy from it. 

“I can tell that I hurt you,” Tifa says, “and I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Aerith says lightly. “Don’t worry about me.” By the look on Tifa’s face, though, she’s not being totally convincing.

“I just…” Tifa inhales shakily. “You’re my closest friend, you know that?”

This is news to Aerith. She pauses a little too long, feeling all the air leave her chest in a single breath, her heartbeat quickening reflexively. She nods anyway, pretending like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I guess I’m just afraid.”

Aerith keeps her voice gentle. “Of what?”

“Of my feelings.” Tifa looks at her hands, which are sitting tight and tense in her lap. She’s not wearing her gloves, and Aerith’s eyes are drawn to the calluses. “I know I don’t show it, but...five years ago, I felt so much anger and sadness I could hardly breathe.” 

Aerith waits quietly, watching the neon lights flashing and twirling in the distance, the crowd thrumming with energy. It’s funny, she muses not for the first time, how lonely it feels even when you’re surrounded by people.

“The anger’s still there. I think it will always be.” Tifa takes a breath. 

“But for some reason, it doesn’t consume me like it used to. There’s a new feeling now, one that’s stronger than the others.”

“A new feeling?” Aerith repeats, dazed.

Tifa nods. “And I’m feeling it right now.”

Her eyes look like something in a kaleidoscope, bright and electric. Aerith watches the colored lights swirling in their depths, mesmerized and fascinated, and wonders if she’s dreaming. The voices of the Planet are still there, but they’re softer now. Almost hushed, as if they already know what’s about to happen.

She thinks of eternity, of endings and beginnings and the endless cycle of the Planet, and hopes it can allow this one quiet, reverent moment in its midst.

Tifa leans in. Her lips are soft and warm, her touch gentle and almost hesitant. Kissing her feels like coming home, Aerith realizes, and can’t help but laugh in pure, unrestrained joy. She feels Tifa smiling against her mouth. Then she’s placing a hand in Tifa’s hair and cradling the side of her face with the other and Aerith thinks she could do this forever and ever.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a slow writer, so i'm actually shocked that i finished this thing in less than 24 hours. what can i say except that i love the dynamic between these two, and aerith's pov was such a treat to write :')


End file.
